


Cotton and Lace

by Zoadgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Car mechanic Raven, F/F, Femslash, First time (with this partner), Fluff, Lingerie, Med Student Clarke, Mentions of Sex, implied sex, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is going to have sex with Raven tonight. She finally doesn’t have a major presentation to work on, and Raven isn’t working a late shift at the garage. Just the thought of finally getting Raven alone when neither of them are exhausted and they both have the next day off.... Well, if the way Raven kisses is anything to go by, it’s a very good thing that Clarke has tomorrow off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton and Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fallen_for_another_psychopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_for_another_psychopath/gifts).



> _Modernish (AU) headcanon:_
> 
> _The first time she slept with Raven, Clarke made an effort to wear matching lingerie for once, and not her usual simple cotton undies. The lacey knickers were itching her all night, and when they got back to her place - there was no way in hell Clarke would have sex in Raven’s dodgy accommodation - and stripped down, revealing Raven in a pair of her ordinary plain boxers, they both spend the next 15 minutes in hysterics._

Clarke is going to have sex with Raven tonight. She finally doesn’t have a major presentation to work on, and Raven isn’t working a late shift at the garage. Just the thought of finally getting Raven alone when neither of them are exhausted and they both have the next day off.... Well, if the way Raven kisses is anything to go by, it’s a very good thing that Clarke has tomorrow off. She’s not nervous about it, because why the hell should she be? Her girlfriend is the most gentle person Clarke knows, despite her fiery personality. 

No, Clarke’s nerves are entirely related to the godawfully pink store that she’s standing in front of, probably looking quite strange to the hordes of busy people surging past her. She’d been waiting for this night for a long time, and Clarke knew she wanted something a little more special than her functional cotton underwear for the occasion. But why does lingerie have to be so confusing?

“Last week you analyzed stool sample, for Christ’s sake, this should not be difficult.” Clarke mutters to herself in exasperation, hiking her bookbag more securely on her shoulder, as if it will protect her from whatever’s waiting through the doors in front of her. One more sigh, and Clarke marches forward with a grim determination.

Once her eyes adjust from the dazzling sunlight to the artificial lighting within the store, Clarke is greeted by an, in her opinion, far too cheery employee. 

“Hi there! Is there anything I can help you with today?” God, was there ever a more fake smile? Clarke returns it, though, no need to make the girl’s undoubtedly shit job even worse.

“No, thank you, just browsing.” And like that, the girl disappears with a smile to help one of the other customers milling through mounds of fluorescent panties. 

Clarke immediately steers herself away from anything black, white, grey, or cotton. If she’s going to do this, she’s going all out. A surprising amount of the product actually seems at least semi-versatile, and Clarke feels a little less like she’s in a foreign world where “comfort” is an unknown prospect. Her eyes ghost over rack after rack of push up bras, sequins, and rhinestones before she finds something that looks like it might not kill her, and still look pretty good.

After all, how bad could lace be?

It takes half a second for Clarke to decide which set of lace garments to buy when her fingers brush over a rich red, the colour of that ratty old bomber jacket that Raven insists on wearing everywhere. A small smile pulls at the corner of her lips as she recalls Raven struggling with a needle and thread, cursing and sucking on her fingers whenever she pricked them until Clarke came in and took over. Seriously, that girl could build a car from scrap but was completely useless without her wrenches and screwdrivers.

A few moments later Clarke is walking down the street and shoving a neon bag into her own bag to avoid blinding passersby. The girl had insisted on it, and Clarke really didn’t care enough to argue. So now she officially owns a ridiculously expensive set of underwear, but imagining the evening she has planned with Raven makes the little luxury well worth it. Clarke’s smiling to herself again when her phone buzzes in her pocket, eternally on silent for fear of it going off in class.

_still on 4 tonite?_

Clarke cringes at the text, wishing Raven would just take the time to type full words at least. She’s lucky Clarke loves her so much.

_Of course, pick me up from home at 1800h._

That gives Clarke about an hour to relax and get ready and still get them to the restaurant in time for their reservations. The subway ride back to her apartment gives Clarke a fair amount of time to think about the evening, and wonder why it’s such a big deal for her. She’s not a virgin, it’s not her first time with a woman, and she and Raven care about each other a ridiculous amount. With Finn, Octavia, and Wells, Clarke had never had nerves. She’d never been that excited about it either, though, if she’s being honest.

Maybe that’s why Clarke’s so invested in the evening. It’s not going to be a “we just finished our last exam, I’m high on endorphins and you’re cute” fling like Finn was. It’s not going to be the “you’re my best friend’s sister and have been hitting on me for weeks and I’m curious about being with a girl” month that she had spent dating Octavia. And it’s very definitely not going to be the year she spent in a “we’re practically dating and have been friends forever, might as well sleep together” snooze-fest of a relationship she’d had with Wells. Raven is the first relationship where Clarke’s never been bored or, in the case of Octavia, frightened for her safety if Bellamy found out. She loves the man like a brother, but he’s crazy protective of his sister, and O likes pushing him just a little too much.

As soon as Clarke gets into her apartment and locks the door behind her, she unceremoniously throws her clothes on the floor and unwraps the delicate lingerie. It’s just as pretty as it was in the store, and Clarke’s nerves begin to turn into excitement over what Raven’s reaction will be when they get back here after the date. In a moment, with minimal cursing and tangling of thin fabric, Clarke finds herself in front of her mirror. As she looks at herself, she thinks she finally understands why people buy expensive underwear.

Because _damn_ , she looks good. Clarke isn’t self-conscious or anything, she’s never seen any reason for that, but the way that red lace wraps around her and accentuates everything that should be shown off for the activities she has in mind makes her feel amazing. She feels like she could take on the world, dressed in nothing but frilly panties. All her nerves are gone now, a distant memory quickly vanishing in the excitement she feels bubbling within her chest. 

By the time Raven lets herself into the apartment, Clarke has cleaned up, put on makeup, and slipped into the curve hugging crimson dress that she has set aside for special nights. Celebrating Raven’s recent promotion at the garage is special enough, but Clarke is determined to pull out all the stops tonight.

She feels like a million dollars, but when Raven walks in, Clarke is speechless. Raven’s always gorgeous, but in a slinky black dress with a predatory look on her face as she devours Clarke with her eyes, it’s a whole other level of beautiful that Clarke is totally cool with.

“Ray, you look--”

“Amazing.” Raven breathes almost reverently as she closes the distance between them and brushes a strand of hair back into place behind Clarke’s ear. The slight touch sets Clarke’s blood on fire, and she wants to just say screw the reservations, let’s stay in tonight. But they’ve both been dying to go to this restaurant for ages, and Clarke hasn’t eaten yet.

Just as Raven leans in, the scent of oil and rust that she never quite manages to wash off wrapping around her like a familiar embrace, Clarke’s stomach pipes up with a growl more intimidating than anything she could ever manage, and she’s made grown men cry with a look. Raven and Clarke freeze for a moment before they both burst out laughing, and Raven presses a quick kiss to Clarke’s lips before offering her arm.

“My lady, your chariot awaits.” Clarke wrinkles her nose with a smile, but she happily links her arm with Raven’s and descends to the street with her. Climbing into Raven’s beat up old Mustang, which she swears up and down is a classic and not a rusted pile of junk, Clarke feels completely at ease. The nights that she gets to go out with her girlfriend, or even just spend time with her, are the most amazing nights she has. Stresses of school and family all fade away whenever Raven engages her in sarcastic banter, kisses her like the world is going to end tomorrow, or just holds her hand in the same delicate grasp she’s using right now.

The ride to the restaurant is uneventful, filled with Raven chattering on about work, and Clarke occasionally chiming in with a variant of “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I love and support you”. The both curse in unison as a black suv darts in front of them and steals their parking spot, much to the obvious horror of the mother walking past their very rolled down windows with her two small children. 

They still manage to find a parking spot and make it to their reservations with time to spare, which Clarke and Raven both credit to Clarke’s amazing planning skills. 

“You see, the trick is to know that you’re either going to be late, or something’s going to go wrong.” Clarke teases Raven with a smile, drawing a little laugh from the other girl.

“Oh, so _that’s_ how we’re playing tonight. Picking on Raven when we’re out celebrating her promotion, huh?” Clarke would feel bad, except the smile never leaves Raven’s face. She presses a quick kiss to Raven’s cheek as she tells the hostess their name and reservation time, anyway.

“You know I’m proud of you, babe.” And the smile that Raven shoots Clarke at that just melts her heart and makes her realize that she really is the luckiest girl in the world, to have a girlfriend who’s as amazingly talented and caring as Raven Reyes.

Their table is amazing, tuck in a quiet little alcove, with a small candle flickering happily in the middle. Clarke goes to sit down, only to have Raven pull her seat out for her. She accepts the ridiculous gesture with a roll of her eyes.

“You know, Ray, we are in a lesbian relationship. Neither one of us has to be the guy here.” Raven laughs as she takes her own seat and reaches across to grab Clarke’s hand, gently running her thumb over Clarke’s knuckles.

“And what if I just want to spoil my princess, gender stereotypes be damned?” Clarke is caught between groaning and blushing at that, but her face decides for her.

“Don’t tell me you’re using that nickname, too.” The ‘princess’ moniker was something Clarke had been unable to shake ever since 5 year old her decided that would be her job when she grew up, much to the amusement of “I want to be a robot” Wells Jaha. 

“Sorry, seemed appropriate.” The smile on Raven’s face doesn’t seem sorry at all, but Clarke lets it slide, just this once. 

They order their meals, and about ten minutes into a lovely dinner, Clarke begins to see the issue with lace. It had looked so nice, and felt so soft when it was laid flat against her skin, but lace apparently has a penchant for shifting. And this particular pair of undergarments has an affinity for lodging itself in a firm wedgie that Clarke cannot adjust in the current situation. At that point, the pretty frills become unbearably itchy, and it’s all Clarke can do to prevent herself from fidgeting.

She keeps telling herself it’ll be worth it, and she knows it will be. Raven will be blown away, and they’ll have amazingly hot sex, hopefully in Clarke’s bed but possibly on her couch. But the discomfort still ends up putting Clarke on edge, especially as they close their bill and head back to Raven’s car.

“Thanks for an amazing evening, Clarke, I couldn’t dream of a better way to celebrate. Do you want to come back to mine for a bit, hang out with Monty and Jas?” Although Clarke does love the two nerds, they’re not what she has in mind to finish the night. Neither is the absolute pigsty that Raven calls an apartment.

“No, actually, I think I’d like to go back to my place.” Raven’s face falls, obviously not realizing that Clarke means both of them going to her apartment. Well, that just won’t do at all.

She steps forward, causing Raven to half lean, half sit on the hood of the car as Clarke presses their lips together. Raven’s response is immediate, one hand curling into Clarke’s hair as the other pulls Clarke flush with her. Clarke’s drapes her arms over Raven’s shoulders, losing herself in the mesh of their lips together and the last taste of chocolate cake that she chases on Raven’s tongue. She might moan against Raven at some point, but Raven definitely whimpers when Clarke breaks away, suddenly desperate to be back at her place.

“Take me home, Raven, and you come with me.” Raven’s face lights up and a wicked smile curls her lips, causing Clarke’s stomach to flip delightfully and heat to pool in her core. When Raven passes around the car after opening the passenger door for Clarke, Clarke takes that opportunity to readjust her panties, almost sighing in relief.

When they get back to Clarke’s building, it’s a miracle she manages to get the door open with Raven;s hands all over her, her mouth on Clarke’s neck peppering little kisses and light bites that drive Clarke insane. As soon as they fumble their way inside and slam the door behind them, Raven is undoing Clarke’s dress, having received an enthusiastic nod is response to the “Is this okay?” that she whispered against Clarke’s lips. The soft fabric falls to the ground, and Raven’s eyes roam over Clarke’s body.

“Holy shit, Clarke.” And Clarke can’t help the grin on her face.

“I know, right?” She shifts subtly in a way that she knows will show off her breasts and hips to their best advantage, drawing a groan from Raven who hurriedly drops her own dress to the floor and rushes to embrace Clarke again, only to be held at arms length.

“Wait, you were wearing that?” Clarke looks at Raven, finding grey cotton shorts that look annoyingly comfy. Raven’s face scrunches up in confusion, until Clarke continues. “You were wearing that, while I was dying from a freaking lace wedgie? You were wearing the same damn pair of underwear that you always wear?”

There’s a moment of tension, before Raven bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching at her knees.

“What’s so damn funny?” Clarke’s for some reason still upset over the fact that Raven was just wearing normal underwear.

“I-I’m sorry.” Raven gasps out, “But I thought I had done something wrong! And here you were upset because I’m not wearing lace panties too?”

When Raven says it, it sounds utterly ridiculous to Clarke. Here she had been determined to have an amazing evening, and she was ready to throw that all away because of boy shorts? She begins to giggle along with Raven, and soon they’re both sitting on the floor, laughing at the fact that Clarke, in keeping with her personality, had planned everything down to her underwear, whereas Raven had hardly even remembered to shower. They laugh for a good long time before they begin to settle down, Raven wiping actual tears from her eyes.

“Was that our first fight?” Clarke giggles, still grinning like a fool.

“I suppose so.” Raven heaves breaths to try and recover from her laughing attack, never doing anything halfway. But the mood rapidly changes when Raven sits upright, leaning slightly towards Clarke. “You know what that means?”

Clarke licks her lips and shakes her head, watching Raven’s eyes track the motion of her tongue.

“Make-up sex.”

And if every time with Raven is going to be as amazing as that first time was, cotton and lace panties aside, Clarke may never end up finishing her doctorate. Hell, she may never end up leaving her apartment, if Raven keeps doing that thing with her tongue that makes Clarke moan, neighbours be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I said I was going to write something for this aaaages ago, but I finally completed it! Inspired by the prompt at the start by the amazing [bravenlarked](http://bravenlarked.tumblr.com), I'm so glad this is finally completed. And hey, I did manage to make it completely fluff! Edited by the more clever with each passing day [coldsaturn!](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com)
> 
> As always, I'd love to chat with you guys [on tumblr!](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) Thanks in advance for commenting/viewing/leaving kudos <3


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